Splash Some Parts Redone
by Storms-Are-My-Nature
Summary: Splash is still a first draft, so I've been going back over parts and redoing them again until I'm happier with them. This won't be the entire story I hope! just certain parts. Janto.


**Parts of Splash Redone**

**I've hit writer's block (again!) on Splash, so I started going through the manuscript and re-doing parts of it. I wasn't particularly happy with the first few chapters – I didn't feel that I'd communicated Jack and Ianto's relationship as I intended, and I wanted to work in some other things, too. **

**So here's what I've managed so far – let me know what you think, or whether you prefer the original version (which is very much a 1****st**** draft). **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood. Not yet, anyway… **

Ianto Jones was just clearing up the last of the coffee mugs from his colleagues' desks when the secure phone rang, echoing around the cavernous underground Hub.

With a sigh, he straightened up, abandoning the search for Gwen's cup which remained hidden beneath the mess of paperwork, and went to answer it, mentally groaning at the fact that the secure line would probably mean a few more sleepless nights. Owen would be delighted.

'Hello, this is Torchwood Cardiff, how can I help you?' he reeled off, the words easily slipping off his tongue from long practice.

There was a guttural coughing at the other end. Ianto frowned.

'Hello?' he repeated.

'...Ianto Jones...' the voice wheezed, echoing strangely down the line.

Ianto felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. He swallowed and gripped the receiver tighter.

'How do you know my name?' he asked sharply, trying not to let his voice quiver.

A dry hack answered him. Ianto tensed, glancing up at Jack's office.

'...so...sorry...' the voice managed to whisper, before the line went dead.

Ianto froze, the receiver still clutched in his right hand. The dead line was droning in his ear, and he shakily put it down, before backing away and collapsing into Toshiko's swivel chair.

Jack jogged down the metal-grate stairs, hand in his pockets and a frown on his chiselled features.

'I thought you'd gone home,' he commented. Ianto's mouth still felt dry.

He gestured weakly at the used cups on the tray. 'Just cleaning up,' he muttered, not meeting Jack's intense blue gaze. 'Soon be done.'

Jack jumped down the last three steps and sauntered over. 'What's up?'

Ianto let the polite-butler persona slide into place. 'Nothing, sir. What made you think something was wrong?'

Jack shrugged and grinned brightly at the Welshman, causing Ianto's stomach to flip-flop. 'You just looked ruffled - what was that phone call about?'

'Nothing, sir.'

'Can we please drop the "sir" now? I thought we'd talked about this—'

'I think I'll head off home now,' Ianto interrupted, standing up and straightening his suit. He tried to smile naturally. 'Don't forget that you've got a conference call with UNIT at ten.'

'I do?'

Ianto rolled his eyes, buttoning up his coat with fumbling fingers. 'Yes, you do. General Forster wants to discuss the new UNIT facility that they want to build in Pontypridd.'

'I thought we discussed that last week.'

'They also want to discuss that in,' Ianto checked his watch with a smart twist of his wrist, 'forty minutes.'

Jack grimaced. 'Can't you stay too?

Ianto paused on his way to the cog-wheel door. 'I haven't been home in several days, Jack,' he pointed out. 'I need to clean out the fridge and feed the cat.'

'Who's been feeding him for the past few days?' Jack asked, curious. He liked Ianto's cat.

'Mrs Peters, from next door.' Ianto checked his pockets for his keys. 'Did I leave my keys on the dresser?'

Jack shrugged. 'Dunno. Maybe.'

'That's helpful.' Ianto rolled his eyes and headed up to Jack's office. Jack followed after him at a more leisurely pace.

'If she's been looking after Moses so far, what difference will another night make?' Jack tried again, leaning on his desk as he watched Ianto rummage around on the dresser-top, down in Jack's bunker.

Ianto's clambered back out through the manhole, keys in hand, and dusted down his trousers again. 'Jack – it's not just Moses.'

'What, then?'

Ianto sighed. 'It's just that sometimes I feel that Torchwood is… stealing everything.'

Jack's brow furrowed. 'Not following you.'

'I practically _live_ here at the Hub, Jack. I have a flat, but I haven't slept there for ages. Christ, I've still got the boxes from moving in!'

'That was nearly two years ago,' Jack said, realisation dawning. 'Well, why don't I come back to yours after the call? We could take a day off tomorrow – Rift providing – and sort out your flat. Go shopping, you know.'

Ianto raised an eyebrow. 'Do you mean it?'

'Sure. I haven't been out the Hub for a day for…' Jack tried to remember the last time, 'ages.'

'Okay, then. Do you want me to cook tonight?' Ianto offered.

'How about I grab a take-out on my way?'

Ianto shrugged. 'That's sounds fine. Should I expect you before midnight, or will General Forster want to keep you longer?'

Jack shuddered. 'I hope not. I can't stand the man.'

'Try to behave.'

'Behave? Not a word in my vocabulary. Where's the fun in behaving?'

Ianto rolled his eyes good-naturedly and brushed a brief kiss across the captain's lips. 'You're impossible. See you later.'

Jack watched him go, hands in pockets. If he'd looked in a mirror at that point, he would have been mortified by the sappy smile now spread from ear to ear.

Ianto let himself into his dark flat with a barely audible sigh. His cat, Moses, trotted out of the kitchen, green eyes curious. Moses opened his mouth in a silent meow, begging to be picked up.

Ianto obliged, bending down and picking up the black-and-white tom, rubbing his fingers through the warm fur.

'Hello boy,' he murmured, feeling the cat's purr rumbling in his chest. 'I've been a while, haven't I?'

Moses responded with an indignant mrrow, and wriggled to be put down again.

-T-

Ianto let him go and bent down to unlace his shoes, placing them neatly on the doormat before padding into the sitting room and collapsing on the sofa.

He flicked on the television, not with anything in mind to watch but rather just to have something to do. Moses jumped up onto his lap and they spent the next forty minutes watching a documentary on the vineyards of France that Ianto had remembered to record a couple of weeks ago.

Stroking the purring cat (and probably getting fur spread across his trousers), Ianto managed to push the unsettling phone call to the back of his mind, and instead focus on looking forward to simply spending the night in with Jack.

At least, he had nearly done so when the phone rang.

Ianto sighed in annoyance, before shifting an indignant Moses and answering it.

'Hello? Ianto Jones speaking.'

'...Ianto Jones...'

_Shit. _

'What do you want?' Ianto asked, feeling as if cold fingers were running up and down his back. 'How did you get this number?'

'...so—'

'If you don't leave me alone, I will track you down and stop you,' Ianto warned.

The other end was silent. A rattling breath was sucked in and let out with a trembling hiss. There was a wet slapping sound, and splashing on the other end.

'...islands...'

'What about islands?' Ianto growled.

'...help...us...'

And the line went dead.

Ianto swore and threw the phone at the wall, spinning around and storming into his bedroom. He flung himself on the bed and buried his face in the duvet. It smelt of cats, and Ianto's nose was tickled by cat hairs.

He rolled over and stared at the ceiling. There were cobwebs all over the place, indicative of how long it had been since he had been home. He felt slightly guilty at leaving his cat here so long, with only doddery old Mrs Peters for company every so often.

'I wonder if Moses would like the Hub...' he considered aloud. 'Myfanwy might enjoy the company.'

As if. Myfanwy was a pterodactyl (pteranodon, to be precise, but pterodactyl sounded sexier – to Ianto's mind, anyway) and would be much more likely to simply eat Moses on sight.

So maybe not.

'Ah well,' he murmured. 'It was only an idea.'

He got up, going to the window and staring out into lamp-lit Cardiff. He could see why Jack loved to stand on rooftops so much, just looking at the world. Sometimes it was nice to feel like you were not a part of this crazy, crazy place.

But who was he kidding? His job was to hunt down aliens, to monitor a Rift in time and space running through the city. If that wasn't crazy, what was?

The doorbell rang. Ianto sprang up to get it, mentally berating himself for not tidying up earlier. Not that he needed to tidy, but—

Jack stood on the other side of the door, great-coat on and brilliant smile fixed firmly in place. He even had a couple of pizza boxes clutched in his hands. 'Sorry I'm early,' he apologised. 'The call didn't last that long.'

'In other words, you shouted and they did what you wanted.' Ianto stood back to let Jack in, taking his coat and hanging it up on the rack. 'Like usual.'

'I think I got my point across, yeah,' Jack agreed.

'Shoes.'

Jack put the pizza boxes on the hall table before bending down to unlace his boots. At a stern look from Ianto left them relatively tidy on the mat next to Ianto's. 'I got pizza, that okay?'

Ianto nodded and was about to say something, but suddenly Jack's lips were on his and everything else fled his mind.

Jack grinned at the slightly-stunned expression on the Welshman's face. He picked up the pizza boxes and sauntered into the kitchen. 'Where do you keep your plates?' he called.

Ianto snapped out of his daze abruptly, and hurried to remove Jack from his kitchen. 'I can do it,' he said, shooing Jack into the living room. 'Pick whatever you want to watch from the DVDs on the shelf.'

There was an amused chuckle from Jack. 'Somebody's a Bond fan. Though I suspected as much with the "Jones, Ianto Jones".'

Ianto carefully arranged the pizza slices so that they didn't overlap, and flattened the boxes so that they would fit in the bin. 'Lisa got me them all for Christmas,' he replied. 'She was horrified that I hadn't seen them.'

'She was a Bond fan then?'

Ianto paused for a moment, his throat tightening. 'Yeah. She was.'

Jack looked back at him through the doorway. 'I'm sorry, Ianto. If it could have been any other way, I would have done so.'

Ianto smiled tightly at him. 'I know. It's in the past now.' He picked up the plates and perched on the edge of the sofa as Jack slid _Love Actually _into the machine. '_Love Actually_? Really, Jack?'

Jack flopped down on the sofa next to him. 'It's one of my favourite films, actually,' he said. 'It's brilliant.'

Ianto remained to be convinced. 'Hmm,' was all that he said, still not settling properly. Jack considered him for a moment before grabbing Ianto's legs and swinging them up onto his lap.

Ianto raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't move his feet. He scrubbed a hand across his face tiredly, loosening his tie and mussing up his hair.

Jack smiled, a softer smile than usual, and started massaging Ianto's feet with gentle fingers. Ianto moaned and closed his eyes, ignoring the opening of the film on the TV screen. 'That feels good…'

'You're all tense,' Jack murmured. 'What's wrong?'

Ianto opened one eye a crack to peer at Jack. 'What d'you mean?'

'You're usually only this wound-up when something's happened,' Jack said.

'That's observant of you.'

'I spend most of my day staring at you,' Jack joked. 'It figures.'

'I fear for the safety of the world if you spend all your day watching me when you should be chasing aliens,' Ianto replied through a large yawn.

'You still haven't answered my question,' Jack said.

'What was that?' Ianto yawned again.

Jack ignored the fact that Ianto was being deliberately obtuse. 'What's got you all worked up?' he asked.

Ianto hesitated.

'I just want to help, Ianto.'

'I… it's just a prank call I got,' Ianto replied, closing his eyes again and trying to relax as Jack worked on his feet.

'What happened?' Jack asked. The sound of the TV cut out.

Ianto opened his eyes again to see Jack drop the remote back on the floor again, the figures on the screen having silent discussions. 'It was nothing, really. I don't know why I got so worked up about them.'

'Them?'

Ianto yawned yet again, the assault on the soles of his feet inducing a fuzzy sleepiness in his brain. 'I got two. Once at the Hub, once at home.'

'What did they say?'

'Just some crap about islands and helping them,' Ianto said, feeling sleepier with every stroke and press of Jack's fingers, 'not much.'

'That all?'

'Mmm… yeah, 'bout all.' Ianto was dangerously nearing falling asleep on the couch, something he really didn't want to do; his back would be killing him for days if he allowed that to happen.

'D'you mind if I check the sound files?' Jack asked carefully, not missing a beat with his massaging.

Ianto frowned, bewildered, and opened both eyes fully to stare at the captain. 'Why?'

Jack looked back steadily with blue eyes that acted like a shield, hiding and protecting all that went on behind the enigmatic exterior. 'I just want to be certain that it isn't anything we need to worry about,' he said, calm and relaxed.

'If you want to,' Ianto said, wriggling around to cuddle up to Jack, stifling another yawn.

'Thanks.' Jack dropped a kiss onto Ianto's hair and picked up the remote, turning the volume back on.

'Can you restart it?' Ianto asked. 'I want to understand what you see in it.'

'It's all about love,' Jack said, as if that explained everything, 'and Christmas.'

Ianto looked up at him. 'Do they celebrate Christmas where you come from, then?'

Jack chuckled, and Ianto could feel the vibrations all through his body, right down to his toes. 'No,' the immortal said, 'but I like the idea of it. You get presents.'

'Jack!' Ianto scolded good-naturedly. 'That's not the point of Christmas.'

'But it's the best part, don't you agree?'

'Except for the mashed swede,' Ianto said with a shudder. 'I _hate_ the mashed swede.'

'Me too,' Jack agreed, an odd tone to his voice. Ianto glanced up at him, and saw a dark shadow flit across his face.

'Jack?' Ianto asked. 'What is it?'

'What's what?' Jack asked with a massive smile that didn't quite meet his eyes; they remained haunted and dark.

Ianto reached up and touched his cheek. 'Why has _mashed swede_ got you sad?'

Jack tried to brush it off, 'It cracked a bad joke.'

'Jack.'

Jack sighed, and took Ianto's hand and interlaced their fingers. 'When I was away,' he started, 'I got held capture by a madman.'

Ianto waited patiently, a quiver of excitement coursing through his body at the prospect of Jack divulging something about when he was away for that time.

'He kept me chained up for a year, feeding me only mashed swede,' Jack said softly, not looking at Ianto but at the wall above the TV, expression vacant.

'Oh, Jack…'

'That wasn't the worst of it,' Jack continued. 'He liked to discover how many ways I could die.' He paused, lost in memories. Ianto squeezed his hand, trying to bring him back to the present. 'One of the ways he did it was to put a slow-acting poison in the swede. It gradually dissolved my insides, eating me from the inside out.'

On impulse, Ianto leant across and kissed him, attempting to offer comfort in the best way he knew how. Jack melted into the kiss, clutching Ianto like he was a ship-wreck survivor, clinging to the last piece of wreckage before it too slipped away into the dark depths.

Ianto pulled back, his head buzzing. He glanced at the clock over the kitchen door: _1.34._ They really needed to get to bed, if they wanted to have any sleep at all. 'Come on,' he said regretfully. 'We really ought to get some sleep.'

Jack smiled at him, taking the proffered hand, and allowed himself to be led into the bedroom.

**Feedback is hugely appreciated! (hint, hint :-P) **


End file.
